


John Hamish Watson Lestrade

by MidnightMonster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Gen, John is Greg's son, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Older Sherlock, POV Sherlock Holmes, Protective John, Slightly - Freeform, Younger John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMonster/pseuds/MidnightMonster
Summary: John is Lestrade's son and is 23 years old training to be a doctor and planning to be an army-doctor. Greg's concern about John being a soldier however is pushed into the background when a new problem presents itself. Sherlock Holmes.He is worried that Sherlock will hurt John or get hurt because of him in some way.But despite his concerns and efforts of keeping them apart it seems that they can't be kept away from each other.





	

"Sherlock!" Greg's voice cut through the air and reached the irritated 25 years old who let out a disdainful growl at the sound, but nevertheless stepped back from the body and turned to the older man.

Although his eyes swept past him and zeroed on the shorter man next to him and instantly the deductions started up.

_...22 years old..._

_...medical student..._

_...played rugby for a long time..._

_...sycophantic limp..._

All this ran through his head in seconds while his eyes continued to take him in. He was missing somehing. Something obvious. It was there somewhere, he knew it was. But where? Where?!

"Khm, Sherlock." Lestrade cleared his throat to get the younger one's attention who reluctantly faced him again. But as soon as Sheelock took a glance at the DI's face it clicked. 

_...Lestrade's son..._

At that deduction Sherlock had to keep his expression in check not to reflect the curiosity he felt inside. He heard rumours of the boy who helped his Father solve cases multiple times.

In the end Sherlock smirked and Greg let out a groan probably seeing what was about to happen.

"How nobel from you Lestrade to introduce me to your only child." 

"What? How did you see it?" The boy asked, suprised.

"The ears." He said simply while pulling off his rubber glowes dramatically. 

The bafflement and the curiosity was palatable on the young man's face and Sherlock felt a little tugging feeling in his chest. He didn't want to leave him just yet. Who knew when they would meet again? Maybe if he intrigued him enough he would come to him by himself.

With that in mind Sherlock started to leave.

"I hope you realised that the limp is just . psychosomatic. It's all in your head." He said off handedly as a parting wish. 

He looked back from the door one last time to see the blond's bafflement. He couldn't resist the smirk and the wink he threw at him before he shut the door.

 

**□□□**

 

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Date with Mary."

"Good. Listen, I think you shouldn't help me with this case."

"But... why?"

"I don't want you to hang around Sherlock Holmes."

 

**□□□**

 

"Well, I was just about to have coffee in the canteen." Sherlock had to work hard to hide his frustration. He wanted to use Molly's equipment so he needed to keep on a pleasent face. But he saw the reluctance in her eyes so he knew he needed to try harder.

"How about I join you and after that we can go back to the lab together?" He even let a smile stretch over his face. Inside, though, he was dredging the next half an hour of boredom. Oh, what he needed to endure in the name of Science?

Molly's expression brightened and with a nod she truned around, leading the way with a sprung in her steps. Sherlock's face however turned sour but nevertheless followed her.

Fortunately for Molly and unfortunately for Sherlock there was still a free table in the corner of the place, otherwise it was full of university students, doctors, nurses or patients. 

Sherlock with a resigned sigh sat back and put his legs up on the spare chair while Molly went to fetch both of them a cup. He started to think of the case which was one of his client's but he was pulled out of his mind by Molly. Molly, who wasn't alone.

And it wasn't a nobody next to her. No. It was Lestrade's son. 

Sherlock without thinking took his legs off of the third chair as an invitation. The boy threw him a grateful smile and sat down with his plate of food and tea.

Molly was suprised by the lack of Sherlock's protest but at the same time grateful too. She wanted to help out John because she knew what was it like not to have a place to sit at lunch.

As soon as she regained the ability to speak she introduced them to each other. "Sherlock Holmes, John Watson. John Watson, Sherlock Holmes."

They shook hands and Sherlock felt a little warmer as they touched. When they let go he pulled up one eyebrow. "Watson?" He asked.

"John Hamish Watson Lestrade." John shrugged. "Parents divorced and my full name is too long." 

Sherlock nodded and took a slip of his coffee but he had to held back a grimace. He looked at John's still steaming tea wistfully.

John and Molly started to talk and Sherlock listened in here and there but otherwise his mind was occupied by his case. And he already deduced those things of John which he was sharing with Molly.

Suddenly he slapped his half drunken coffee down onto the table, spilling a little bit out in the process. Both Molly and John looked at him questioningly, but he just asked for Molly's phone.

"Sorry, left it in my coat pocket." Sherlock let out an annoyed grunt at that.

"Here, use mine." He looked at John in suprise but he quickly guarded his face and took the phone to text. While he had the chance he couldn't resist to look up John's number and memories it, just in case he needed to reach Lestrade. He told himself.

He even noted the engraving on the back of the phone.

_Don't give up. -Harry x_

He felt his stomach become heavy from some unknown reason.

"Thank you." He said as he handed back the mobile to an already standing John. Seeing this, Sherlock frowned. He wanted to talk to John without Molly's interfering presence. 

"No problem." He shrugged and with sending a kind smile at Molly and a smirk at him, he left.

"Oh, he didn't even drink his tea. I wonder why is he in such a rush?" Said Molly to probably start up a conversation with Sherlock who had just noticed the tea deliberately left right in front of him. Still hot and prepared.

Not paying attention to Molly he took a slip tentatively.

It was perfect. 

 

**□□□**

 

"How's the case going?" 

"Not good and there has been another one."

"Really? Can I go?" 

"Don't you have a date?"

"I have time to take look at it."

"No need. We can mange."

"... Sherlock will be there, right?"

"... Yes."

"Why don't you want me around him?"

"He is not a good man."

 

**□□□**

 

Sherlock stared at the dead woman who was dressed in pink. Deductions were running through his head.

_...unhappily married for 10 years...adulter..._

_...collar wet, umbrella dry...big wind...Cardiff_

_...colour coordinated...pink, bright...worked in the media..._

_...spots on the back of the leg...small suitcase... staying for one night..._

Thoughts were running through Sherlock's mind with lightning speed and he was only interrupted by Anderson.

"Rache, german. It means revenge. So we know that she is not from the area.."

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock said and slammed the doot in his face and looked at Lestrade who hadn't said anything just shook his head.

"So it's not revenge?"

Sherlock snorted. "Of course it's not. It's Rachel. Find out who she is." 

"Got it." Lestrade nodded and took out his notepad and waited for Sherlock to tell him what did he get.

But instead the consultant asked him something unexpected. 

"Where is John?" 

"On a date, but why should he even be here?" 

"You wanted him to take a look at this case but something changed. So what?" Asked Sherlock smugly at the troubled expression on the DI's face. But then his face crumbled too as the first part of Lestrade's anwser settled in. 

John was on a date? 

 _Harry..._ His mind supplied. 

For some reason that knowledge made Sherlock want to find the blond haired boy and take him away from this insignificant person who dared to make him boring.

But he had no idea where to find him and more importantly he had a case. A seriel killer! But the glee wasn't like when he had been back at 221B and he first heard of the mysterious note.

However he needed to solve this case so he told Greg his deductions with a rapid speed and only stopped when he was told that there was no case.

A mistake! And with newly found excitement he was back on the case.

Though John stayed in the back of his mind as a nagging presence, no matter what.

 

**□□□**

 

As soon as Lestrade left the crime scene he saw the elegant, sleek black car waiting. With a heavy sigh he opened the door and was greeted by Anthea or whatever name she was currently using.

The car started up and they were off, Greg asked no questions. He learned a long time ago that none of them would be answered.

He was brought to a dark, abandoned warhouse. He shook his head at the new proof that being dramatic ran in the Holmes family.

He climbed out of the car and walked up to Mycroft Holmes with an annoyed expression. 

"I gave you my number Mycroft. I thought you might call the next time you need to talk to me so we could spare all the dramatics."

The older Holmes let out a humourless chuckle and tapped his umbrella against the floor a few times. "I wanted to talk about Sherlock and your son's relationship."

Greg frowned, more alert now that John was mentioned. "There is none. They met only once and only for a few minutes. They barely talked actually."

"That's not quite true. They met again in Barts and now my brother texted your son who agreed to meet him."

Greg chewed on his bottom lip. "You have to keep your brother away from John. I don't need Sherlock turning him into an addict." 

Mycroft's eyebrows shot up. "My brother is clean inspector. No need to worry about that. However I would also much prefer if they would stay away frome each other. There is no need for Sheelock to start to care about someone."

"God help us that he might actually be human." Lestrade said with sarcasm and disapproval. 

Mycroft shot him a glare and pulled out a notebook. "Your son has trust issues."

"How did you-" 

"Could it be that we are already too late? That maybe your son has chosen Sherlock Holmes to trust of all people?"

"That can't be. They had barely talked to each other." Greg said, desperately trying to believe it, but even he couldn't deny that his son had a tendency to become very loyal, very quickly to certain people. "Being around Sherlock is dangerous. He must know that."

Mycroft let out a pitying sigh. "Your son is an adrenalin addict. He doesn't see the danger when he is with Sherlock. He sees a battlefield."

 

**□□□**

 

_Come if convenient. -SH_

_If inconvenient come anyway. -SH_

_Could be dangerous.  -SH_

_Where are you?_

_The address is 221B Baker Street. -SH_

**□□□**

 

As soon as Sherlock heard John's steps on his stairs excitement took over his body and he felt something flutter in his stomach at the thought that John abandoned his date for him.

He opened his eyes when the steps creased. He saw John standing in the doorway and inspecting the place. When his eyes landed on Sherlock the detective threw a card like a frisbee at him and John surprisingly caught it without problem.

_...good reflexes..._

As he read the card he completly forgot about the cain, at that Sherlock just smiled smugly.

"Send the text to that number, will you?"

John looked at him in annoyance. "That's why you needed me?" John asked while already sending the text, Sherlock let a pleased smile take over his face for a moment. "I thought something happened to you."

"It might have happened if I had been the one to text."

"Wait, what? Who did I just text?"

Paying no mind to him Sherlock stood up from the sofa and sat down in his black leather chair, motioning John to do the same across from him. 

He did so but not without asking questions, though when he sat down Sherlock saw a little bump at his lower back also when he leaned back he had to move around a bit to be comfortable.

_...a gun..._

"Who did I text, Sherlock?"

"The murderer, next?"

"What? The card said it was Jennifer Wilson!" 

"You know that she is dead, why are you so suprised that the murderer has her phone?" 

"How do you know for sure?" John asked, not answering Sherlock's question.

"Look at the suit case. There is no phone!"

"Maybe she didn't have one?" 

Sherlock looked at him pityingly. "She was cheating on her husband of course she had one and because of that she wouldn't have left it home either. Conclusion, the murderer took it."

John sat back and Sherlock could see as his brain worked over everything. It was fascinating to watch it. How does he faces the problem. Big picture? Smaller details? Was he even on the right train of thought?

In the end he couldn't resist asking. "What are you thinking of?"

John shrugged. "Just trying to figure out who do we trust facelessly. Who goes unnoticed everywhere? Who can kidnap someone from a crowded street?"

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. John was asking the right questions. It even helped him to think. It's no wonder now how he managed to be helpful to Lestrade.

"Hungry?" Sherlock asked standing up with a smile and already started putting on his coat.

"Starving." John answered with an equally bright smile.

 

**□□□**

 

_He broke up with me!_

_What a bastard! Are u okay?_

_Nope, I hate him. I think he had someone else, a guy!_

_John Watson is gay?! What?! I am coming over, don't worry Mary X_

_Thanks, David:)  Oh, can you pick up coffee on your way?_

_Sure;)_

 

**□□□**

 

They arrived 20 minutes earlier than the meeting with the killer was arranged, but Sherlock for once didn't mind to wait. John needed to eat something so he could function properly for the rest of the night. 

After Angelo's awkward greeting, they settled down and John started to eat, meanwhile Sherlock stole some bites.

"So do you bring dates here often?" John asked probably puzzling over the fact that Angelo called him Sherlock's date which he didn't deny just awkwardly looked around the restaurant. That action gave Sherlock hope, but he quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that John was in a relationship. 

"No." He answered bluntly, keeping his eyes on the street, outside.

John took another bite then asked again. "Don't have a girlfriend then?" 

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area." Sherlock took a glance at John who avoided his eyes.

"Boyfriend? Which is fine by the way." 

"I know it's fine and no, I don't have one." This time their eyes met and Sherlock saw John bit the inside of his bottom lip. He quickly averted his eyes while he swallowed loudly.

"So you are unattached, just like me..."

At this Sherlock's attention focused on John. Unattached?

"Did you break up with Harry?"

"Harry?" John looked at him incredulously. 

"The engraving on your phone. The kiss suggests deep emotional relationship. And the 'Don't give up'? It could mean that you are still crushed about your parents' divorce but at Barts you spoke of it without much care so that's not it. She was probably thinking about you shoulder injury which you got while playing rugby and the injury worried you because it can cause conflict in something important to you which right now is your future, your carrier. Your shoulder healed but your mind transferred the pain to your leg because of the worry." John's expression was awed and Sherlock seeing this couldn't stop. "You have excellent reflexes and when you had sat down in my flat you had to move around, probably because your gun was digging into your back. You are obviously a good shooter, otherwise your Father wouldn't let you carry a gun around. Your Grandfather taught you."

Sherlock stopped to take a breath and regarded John. "You like danger, you can shoot, you are studying to be a doctor. You are planning to sign up to the army for excitement." He finished and strangely his last deduction left a sour taste in his mouth.

He waited for John to regain the ability to speak and nervously took a slip of his water.

"That was-" Here it comes. "amazing!" Sherlock almost spit the water out in suprise, fortunately he just coughed on it.

"You think so?" He asked.

"Yes, it was quite brilliant." John nodded, the awe palatable on his face.

"That's not what they normally say." 

"What do they say?"

"Piss off." At that John let out a laugh and Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle too.

"So did I get anything wrong?"

"My Grandfather taught me how to shoot after my parents divorced. You are right about of the injury and I am considering being a soldier."

"Spot on then." Sherlock said smugly and leaned back in his seat, pleased.

John, however, smirked. "Harry is my cousin." Sherlock's face turned horrorfied and John couldn't help but laugh at the expression. 

"Cousin?! There is always something." 

"Yeah, she is like a sister to me, but I did broke up with my girlfriend tonight."

"Thank god, I was afraid you had become boring like the rest of the mass." Sherlock said with an eyeroll but inside he was secretly feeling warm. It was quite nice.

"So you don't think I am boring?" John asked with a smirk but Sherlock could see it in his eyes that he really wanted to know the answer. 

He didn't look at John, keeping his eyes on a cab which had stopped 3 minutes ago. No one got out or in. Interesting...

"No."

"That's the highest compliment someone can receive from you, right?"

"Yes, savour it." Sherlock said while standing up, John instantly doing the same. 

Moments later they were running across London in a mad chase and Sherlock had never felt so alive.

 

**□□□**

 

"We need some volunteers help in a drug bust."

"I don't think there will be enough people sir."

"We need to raid Sherlock's flat."

"...Now if I think of it Sir there might be."

 

**□□□**

 

John shut the door of his flat and they leaned against the wall and looked at each other, still panting. Then as if they had been counting,  both of them started to laugh. And it wasn't a quiet chuckle. 

Their joyful moment was inturrepted by someone at the door. Sherlock, already knowing who it was motioned John to open it. 

He heard John's suprised examination and he couldn't help himself. He grinned harder.

"You cured me." John looked at him like Sherlock was God himself. No one ever looked at him like that. No matter what he did. He could solve a case, save children or adults, know the answer for sometheing and no one would look at him with awe. Except John. Sherlock could be himself with him and John liked it.

"Obviously." Sherlock teased him.

John shook his head and was about to say something else when-

"Oh, Sherlock! What have you done?" 

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"They are upstairs." The two boys shared a puzzled look and marched upstairs.

"Dad?" John stopped in the door step in suprise.

"What is this?!" Sherlock asked stopping in front of Lestrade. His fingers twitched while he tried to control himself not to yell at Donovan who was disturbing his experiment in the microwave. 

"A drug bust." Lestrade answered off handedly and looked at his son who was looking shocked and angry.

"What? You can't be serious? Sherlock? A junkie?  Have you even met him, Dad?" John asked disapprovingly, Sherlock's heart warmed at hearing that, but his stomach also sank heavily. John would find out about the drugs and then he would leave Sherlock. That was unacceptable. He shot a glare at Lestrade, suddenly seeing the main reason behind the pretended drug bust. And it wasn't because of the evidence.

"John, you should shut up now." He said tightly and forced John to look into his eyes.

"But..." He paused and actually looked Sherlock. "What? You?" He asked in dibelief and Sherlock could even detect a little disappointment in his eyes. That made Sherlock's chest tighten in anxiety, but he decided to discard it. No need to be emotional.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Sherlock said to him then turned back to the DI, who was sitting in _his_ chair. "I am clean! There's no reason for this. And they aren't even part of the drug department!" He motioning toward Anderson and Donovan.

"They volunteered." The inspector shrugged and locked eyes with his son. A silent conversation went down between them which Sherlock had an inkling was about him. 

"Rachel was Jennifer's daughter by the way." Lestarde said turning back to him.

"Good, find her, interrogate her." Sherlock said his mind completely focusing back on the case.

"She is dead. She was basically never alive. She was Jennifer's stillborn daughter." The detective's expression was grim and the whole room was tense.

Sherlock however didn't pay much mind to it. "That doesn't make sense. Why would she write that down, why?!" 

"Why would she think of her unborn daugher? I wonder why." Anderson sneered.

"It was fourteen years ago, she must have gotten over it-" He trailed off, noticing that everyone was regarding him with narrowed eyes. Just as if it was an instinct he looked at John for answers. "Not good?" He asked tentatively. 

John shook his head tiredly. "A bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock paused and stored that into his mind palace then continued his thought process. "Anyway, she wasn't just thinking of her, she clawed it into the floor. But why? Why would she do that?"

"Sherlock, dear, your cab is here." Mrs. Hudson interrupted,  but she was quickly dismissed by the consultant.

"I didn't ask for a cab, send it away."

His thoughts were chasing each other. Rachel... She was a smart a woman, she must had a reason... but what? 

"Sherlock!" Greg shouted.

She was an adulter, she did everything on her phone. It was the most important thing of hers.

"The cab won't go away, dear."

Sherlock let out a growl at the buzzing noise. People were talking, glasses were clinking together, the cars were too loud outside. 

"Everyone shut up! Just shut up! Anderson turn away your face is putting me off!"

"My face?"

"Do as he says!" John's voice cut through the chaos for a moment.

The phone... something with the phone. She had no phone on her.. the killer had it. A password. Tracking.

"Oh, she was clever, cleverer than most of you and she is dead!"

"Just tell us already." John said with an eye roll as Sherlock sat down to his laptop. 

"Rachel was a password. We can track her phone down." He just finished typing in the email and the password and logged in. Moments later it showed that it was at 221B.

That couldn't be... They texted it..

"Sherlock, the cabby is getting impatient." His landlady's kind voice got through to him and then it clicked.

_Who do we trust facelessly. Who goes unnoticed everywhere? Who can kidnap someone from a crowded street?_

The right questions indeed.

Wordlessly he got up and put on his coat.

"Sherlock, where are you going?"

"Out, need some air."

"But-" He didn't listen to the rest.

He walked down the stairs and out of the building. He closed the door behind himself and faced the killer.

The game was on.

**□□□**

 

"He left you behind. See? He doesn't really care about anything else than the cases, John." Greg said, looking down to his son who was sitting in front of the laptop and waiting to refresh. "He is an ex-junkie, anyway."

"You don't even know what kind of person he is." John said accusingly. 

"No, I don't." Lestrade sighed. "But I know what kind of things he does." Greg waited for a response but his son stubbornly refused to look at him, with a sigh he turned around and left. Hoping that his son would do the right thing.

 

**□□□**

 

"Dad, you need to hurry. And bring back up!"

"John for God's sake what's going on?"

"No time, just hurry- Turn left here!"

"Don't do anything stupi-"

_Call disconnected._

 

**□□□**

 

Sherlock stared at the pill in the light. If he took the right one and he lived he would gather his courage and ask John to move in with him. He grew fond of the blonde boy. He didn't love him yet, but he was close. Very close. It was like he was standing at the edge of a cliff and trying to regain his balance by flopping his arms all around, but it was clear for everyone that he would fall no matter what.

And if he chose the wrong one, well...

"You are always so clever. Come on Mr. Holmes show me how clever you can be." The cabbie said. "You love to play the-" His mouth was open, his hands shaking and the pill was almost touching his lips when suddenly there was a loud bang and the cabby fell to the ground. Blood oozing from his shoulder.

Sherlock turned around and looked through the windows but there was no-one in the opposite room or he just couldn't see them.

He turned back to the dying cabbie with a pill in his hand. "Was I right? Did I get it right?" He asked and when the man didn't answer he threw it at him.

"Who is my admirer?" He asked instead, he only got some mumbling as an answer. "Maybe you are dying, but I can still cause you pain." With that he stepped onto the wound.

"Mo-Moriartyyy!" The man half screamed then dropped dead.

Sherlock stepped back murmuring the name to himself. 

A new player.

 

**□□□**

 

"You know what? Ignore it."

"What?"

"Ignore everything I've just said. It must be the shock talking." Sherlock said and started to go toward John who was standing beyond the police cars, out of everyone's sight. A person who had nerves of steel, good morals, has a gun and has an excellent aim. Their eyes locked and Sherlock knew in that moment that he lost his balance at the edge of the cliff.

He smiled at John who did the same. Both of their smiles were full of happiness, fear, uncertainty and determination. 

Ignoring Letrade's protests he walked up to John, discarding the blanket carelessly into one of the police cars.

"I heard what happened from Donovan. Two pills, was it? Dreadful business, dreadful." John said before Sherlock could utter a word. The consultan smiled knowingly.

"Nice shot." He said simply, stopping whatever was about about to leave John's mouth.

"Yes, it was quite good." He nodded looking up to Sherlock oddly shyly.

"You should know." They looked at each other and laughed. 

After they stopped, John spoke:

"You would have taken that damned pill, wouldn't you?"

Sherlock snorted. "Of course I wasn't. I was bidding my time, knew you would turn up."

This time John snorted. "No you didn't."

"Why would I have taken it?"

"Because you are an idiot." John said simply and started to walk off.

Sherlock after a moment caught up to him. They walked side by side for a few moments then John linked their hands together. Sherlock at that tensed at first but then squeezed  back and relaxed.

"I am in need of a flat mate if you are interested." Sherlock said quickly, not really thinking before speaking.

"That would be wonderful." John smiled and squeezed his hand again. 

Sherlock grinned and looked ahead. Seeing the future brighter than his past ever was.

 

**□□□**

 

"Your son could either make my brother better or destroy him completely."

"This goes both ways." Lestrade's tone was distressed.

The British government looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You should be more grateful, inspector. Thanks to my brother your son sees no need to join the army."

"But he is still in danger. I know what kind of criminals Sherlock faces."

"But we can do something about that." And with a flick of his hand Anthea stepped to them.

"Sir?"

"Upgrade their security status to third."

"Sorry, Sir. Whose?"

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson's."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading it and sorry for the grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoyed it! And feedbacks are welcomed!
> 
> By the way what do you guys think of The Six Thatchers?


End file.
